


Inkhora snippets

by sammysamsamsama



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Not serious original work, and the Nasuverse, lots ripped right out of Worm, whatever I feel like typing really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29877474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammysamsamsama/pseuds/sammysamsamsama
Summary: Various character vignettes in a setting I dreamed up for a game of dnd





	1. Lugalbanda

Lugalbanda, King of External Affairs, sat in his palace on a golden throne. His eyes rested heavily on the servants scurrying around, busy preparing unimportant work for him, no doubt. It still irritated him easily how powerless he was in the face of the guild leaders, how they had taken everything from the diarchy and how his title had little meaning when it was granted to him.

He remembered a slave boy with golden eyes and hair, whom he had once taken pains to have stood by his side. He had told that slave, once, about his ambition, and was told in return a tale of his long-ago predecessors who had the power he so coveted. For all their might, their most enduring legacies on the land were in the cities they had ordered built and in the stories written about them, which were the greatest achievements they could aspire to. And when they died, their cities were burnt down and built over, and their stories were lost to the ages. The slave had whispered to him then that all glory was fleeting, and that those old rulers were all no mightier than the most pitiful slave at the passage across the river between life and death.

Frustrated, he stood and walked out of the hall, away from the hurrying fakers and sycophants, across exotic animal pelts decorating the stone floors, up grand stairs and through brightly dyed silk veils onto an open balcony, where he leaned on the balustrade as he gazed across the city. As always, the white pyramids of Ur drew his attention first, rising beyond the temples and ziggurats of ancient days, gleaming limestone ever representing his supposed divinity, reminding him of his once feared name, so long ago wielded.

He reached out his hand as if he could grab the rays of sunlight reflecting off their surfaces and promised himself never to lose his way. He was young still, and there was much yet to do.


	2. Humwawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humwawa, a simple man in Rive, works to support his family.

Humwawa was a simple laborer in the Mason’s Guild. He took a humble 8 or 9 Strata home after a day’s work laying stones, and pooled it with that money made by his wife and two oldest sons to feed, house, and clothe them. On this day like any other, he wondered about his future as he repetitively placed mud bricks.

Looking down at his work, the dull brown wall he was slowly raising, he thought of how little time he had left. Some 33 years old, he was almost considered elderly, and soon he would be too old to work. Then, he would have to rely on his sons and his savings to keep them fed. As he placed the next brick, he wondered how quickly it would wear away. He could almost imagine his bones doing the same in a few more years. Still, he was strong enough to keep working, so work he did.

Raising his head to gaze at the nearby apartments, he thought of how his children would fare in the near future. In one year, his eldest son Irgigi would be old enough to move away and make his own life. His son had found no wife yet, but he was sure to find one soon enough with his flowery words. Laying the next brick, he wondered about grandchildren. Maybe if Irgigi was quick enough, and Humwawa lived long enough, he could greet his first grandchild.

 _Ah, but that is no matter to worry about now,_ he looked down as he laid the next brick. He didn’t have high hopes of reaching that point.

He continued his monotonous brick laying for another three hours, packed up, got his 8 Strata from the manager, and headed for home. By then, the sun was getting low on the horizon and the sky was bleeding a warm orange glow across the city streets. He waved hello to Annunnaki the butcher and Sin-said the baker sitting on their porches on the way, and was playfully bothered by a pair of children to get a fruit out of a tree.

He was greeted inside by his wife, Ia, and their sons, as usual, and they sat together at the table for dinner. Ia had made some kind of bright red spicy soup that night and he was enjoying it immensely after such a boring day.

And as Irgigi picked up his lute and began to tell them stories about his day, he thought to himself that this was enough.


	3. The Negotiator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Negotiator, an Academy student, observes a duel.

She sat down on the upper balcony of one of the Academy courtyards to observe the events below. A small audience was forming inconspicuously as two figures stood across from each other on the grounds. It was a duel between mages, something which occasionally happened on the Citadel for a variety of reasons. She did her best to attend each one she heard about in advance, as also had anyone with a functioning brain in the Academy. It was a relatively uncommon opportunity to witness the result of others’ research and practice, after all, and a chance for the duelers to show off their skill and power.

Duels between mages on the Citadel weren’t much like real fights or duels from most foreign cultures. Typically, on the Citadel, mages took “turns” using whatever they had against each other, analyzing their enemy’s moves, trying to understand the mechanisms behind them, and devising countermeasures. If they could manage to figure out the technique being used against them, mages would even pause in combat to gloat about it or compliment their enemy on their ingenuity. Such was the pride of Erudite mages.

Of course, the Negotiator was no exception. She hadn’t fought in a duel in over twenty years, but that wasn’t because of cowardice or a lack of serious disagreements. No, she was simply too frightfully exceptional in her perceptiveness. It was part of why she was given her name. She had to _understand_ her opponent to negotiate effectively, and because of that, she had focused intensely on the concepts of understanding and communication.

So as she looked down at the fool pair, her eyes glowed golden, and she started to analyze them. She knew already their names before she arrived, one Scribe and one Alabaster. She could tell by looking at them that they were young students, mostly through their unguarded faces, but also how uneasily they moved into position. Though extremely talented, they were inexperienced, enough to know that they were being watched but not by whom. Through the micro-expressions in their faces, the anger and indignation under the determination and confidence, she had an idea that this duel was over a personal matter. At a guess, because it was a common reason, that Alabaster had likely harmed someone the Scribe cared about, so was challenged to this duel.

She watched on as they charged each other, unconventional for mages, and in ten strikes between them she blinked, her eyes brown once again. She was finished in her assessment of their abilities, and predicted that the Scribe would likely win their match.

It was a poor matchup for Alabaster, the pseudo-immortal. His was an ability to reset himself at regular intervals of 6 seconds, instantly regenerating his body and nullifying all physical damage he received. At first, it seemed a difficult ability to counter, and it was, but it was ultimately an impressively powerful party trick. It might survive him many duels if his opponents were of similar means, but the Scribe was as versatile as he was specialized.

As she dashed in and out of his reach, on each hit, ink spilled on Alabaster’s pristine appearance, its effects evident with the following strike but being wiped away the next. He undid burning, freezing, cutting, exploding, crushing, and more. It could be considered “her turn” to impress him with her skill at offense. Everything she wrote was realized and reset every 6 seconds, but each time she tried new and more exotic effects, discovering his precise limitations, figuring out how his ability works.

There was a brief pause after a particularly hard clash pushed them away from each other. In the time given, Alabaster boasted of his immortality, telling of the experiences he’s been able to endure, and how it influenced his fighting style. It was “his turn” to impress her with his defensive ability. However, he was unpracticed, relying on his immortality to see him through. He fought with suicidal disregard to pain or injury, swiping with likely enchanted blades each time she drew near and leaving minor cuts, but he was going to lose if he couldn’t mortally wound her soon enough. If she could produce even one conceptual counter, she would win without question.

It was a foregone conclusion in the Negotiator’s eyes, especially with the large ritual it seemed the Scribe was setting up. With each step the she had taken since the beginning of the duel, she had laid the parts of a trap on the ground. Her foresight even when locked in melee with Alabaster allowed her to use a larger scale technique. If he were more perceptive or experienced, he probably would’ve thought to avoid tracing her steps or have withdrawn from the duel by now. However, he was neither of those things, so he blindly continued on, sprinting right into a bubble of warped time.

The Negotiator could see the triumph on the Scribe’s lips and in her eyes even as she activated her array, and she could see the lack of reaction, or any motion, from Alabaster. The Scribe stood for moments more staring at the sight, then collapsed to one knee taking gasping breaths. After she gathered herself, she stood up, clutching one arm to her side, and with another victorious glance at Alabaster’s frozen sneer, turned around to leave.

With a frown, the Negotiator, too, stood up. She was dissatisfied with what she’d seen. The Scribe was magnificently talented, and had a broad skill set. It was a shame the Negotiator couldn’t understand her magic with such little exposure, but she saw no inspiration to push her forward. In the end, it was another unproductive match.

Well, back to her study.


	4. The Faker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Faker, a young Erudite, prepares herself before she moves to the Academy.

She was the Faker, a young tiefling brought up in Omega, one of the nurseries of Eruditia. Today, she was 15 years old. She had been born here, raised by the custodians, and taught all that they deemed necessary for her to know. She had a talent for magic and had been told that she would be sent to the Academy to continue her studies.

She lived in a communal dorm with around 40 other children, all of roughly the same age. She was the only tiefling, but that didn’t matter. The only other tiefling she had ever seen was a visitor who came to take away children to other places. She didn’t know where they went or why that tiefling came for them, but she never saw those kids again.

Putting aside what she did not know or question, her life in the nursery had been relatively pleasant. The nursery staff was strict, but they were kind to her. Her teachers were competent and always fair to her. If she never earned more, never cast costly spells, and if she were frugal, her allocated resources would last her three hundred more years. She was well-fed, warm, and comfortable.

She didn’t have any complaints about her life as it was, but she knew it would be ending soon. She was now considered prepared enough for transport to the Academy, where she’d pursue ever more profound depths of magic and find her specialty, whatever that may turn out to be.

She was nervous about her future. In her adolescence, she had never found a school of magic that spoke to her, that felt intuitive enough for her to craft spells of her own. She was only ever able to copy what others showed her. This was how she got her name, the Faker.

But now, she had this opportunity to forge her path. The Academy would present her with more resources to consume, more knowledge to exploit, and more freedom to choose. It was her life. If she wanted to fly to a faraway land, nobody would stop her anymore. If she made a terrible mistake in her research, nobody would save her from it either.

She often thought about what she wanted to do. Of course, she had an ambition to become a powerful mage, maybe a professor one day, but she hadn’t gotten far without a concept on which to focus. She had tried and tried again, and her casting had become more potent over time, but she still did not fundamentally understand how it worked. Her long hours of fruitless practice and study had made her frustrated, and apparent over-exertion had caused her some health issues as well, further limiting her progress.

Still, she did her best. Her latest attempt at specialization lay in the temporal aspects of magic. She found that in a certain way, the world was very much like a great machine, with each gear (or person) affecting the next, slowly ticking forward on a big mysterious calculation. Rather than relying on the whims of fate to see her plans come to fruition, she could instead tinker with this machine, unbinding her will from herself and manipulating events to unfold as she liked. She might be described as a girl who could make things occur instantly, rather than waiting for them to happen naturally, who could rot things at a touch or keep them perpetually pristine.

Or at least, that was what she aimed to be. For now, she was still struggling with trying to research and develop her magic as opposed to just copying others.

It would have to wait. Faker’s mentor, Whisper, who had overseen her progress in the last few years, had come to see her. Whisper wore a simple robe and smiled gently. Her dark skin was wrinkled, and at her age, she could be mistaken for a kindly grandmother. She extended a hand to help Faker stand up.

"Good morning, Faker. Are you ready?"

"I suppose I am, although I almost wish I had more time before I had to go. I know it probably wouldn’t help, but I feel uneasy anyway."

She chuckled. "I feel the same way. Every day I woke up before going to class, I would be sick with nervousness. I even considered not going at all sometimes."

Faker hummed, "Really?"

She nodded but didn’t say anything more. She began walking at a sedate pace, and Faker followed, eventually stopping at the nursery temple entrance. It was made mainly of stone bricks, and large stained glass windows depicted various scenes from Eruditia’s history. The archway through the door bore stylized portraits of Mother and Father, whose magic were millennia ago used to create the floating island now supporting the Citadel. The temple's most impressive feature was the massive golden dome that sat on top of the inner chamber, decorated by beautiful carvings depicting the Academy's founding and its students' achievements, mostly members of the Nobility. Faker remembered many nights spent under these images, searching for solutions in their steady gazes. She looked now, too, and as usual, they never answered her, but she took comfort in the familiar act.

Whisper allowed her a few more moments, absorbed in the peace before interrupting. "We must go now. The portal will only stay open for another few minutes."

Faker looked back to her and nodded. They both left the quiet temple and walked down the dirt path leading to the portal. Although the dirt and rocks were untended and the road was mostly overgrown with weeds, the surrounding landscape was still breathtaking—the tall grass swayed in the wind, stained with reds, oranges, and golds, and the sun shimmered in the distance, creating a halo effect. If one were to ignore the floating island overhead, it would have seemed like a scene from a painting.

Faker reached the portal, a jarring door-shaped window between Omega and the Citadel, and her mentor took her hand again, possibly for the last time. Her palm was cool. She squeezed gently and looked into Faker’s eyes.

"This is it. Whatever happens after today, know that I'll still be proud of you."

Her words caused a lump the size of a fist to form in Faker’s throat. She managed to choke out a response, "I... I'll miss you."

"Then do me a favor and remember me from my good side. Now, through the portal, to your future!"

She smiled, and Faker took a deep breath.

"Through the portal, to my future."

Despite the uncertainty of her future, she turned forward with a grin and stepped through the portal with the faintest glimmer of hope in her heart.


	5. Wei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wei is a young rice farmer who dreams of action and adventure.

Wei was a young human rice farmer from a nameless village. To his neighbors, he was a hard-working young man who looked out for the people and tried to help others out when he could. His mom and dad worked on the same land he did, his younger brother, Kang, would join them in two years, and his older sister usually rested in their house.

One day, after long hours of sowing seeds, Wei came home and saw that they were running a little low on firewood. He decided to go into the forest to gather some lumber just in case they needed to burn a bunch suddenly or if one of the other villagers asked for some spare wood. He grabbed his ax and set off towards the edge of the village.

Entering the woods surrounding the village, he found a clearing with some trees that looked perfect for firewood. He approached one of them, raised his ax over his shoulder, and made the first notch down near the base of the tree. The tree itself was about two feet in diameter, so he estimated that he would need about an hour to cut it down with a few good swings.

Some time passed, and he kept chopping at the tree, widening the notch each time. He made one more swing, biting into the tree with a last satisfying thud as the trunk started to split and tilt. He dodged the falling tree, and when he was sure it was settled in the ground, leaned on his ax to take a break.

Suddenly, he heard a loud growl coming from behind him. Quickly turning around, he nearly dropped his ax in shock. Before him stood what must have been a demon. With red skin, two twisting horns, and standing at least six and a half feet tall, it glared at him with blood-shot eyes. In its hand was a club about as thick as Wei’s thigh, raised to strike.

Wei leaped to the side, narrowly dodging the demon's club. It slammed into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and debris as it hit the dirt. He scrambled away, rolling to his feet and taking off. Behind him, he could hear the demon snarl with anger and give chase.

He turned his head briefly to see how close the demon was. The answer was closer than he would like, and the distance was steadily shortening. Running away didn't seem to be an option, so he switched tactics.

He slowed down just enough to lure the demon into taking a swing at him, and as the club came right towards his head, he ducked under the attack and swung his ax into the demon’s gut. The blade bit deep into the surprisingly soft flesh, cutting through skin and muscle and causing black ichor to spill out as it howled in pain.

That madness done, Wei frantically pulled out his ax and stumbled back before it could recover and retaliate against him, but the demon roared, and more began to appear from between the trees. He looked around quickly, and his heart sank in his chest. There were at least a dozen demons with the same blood-shot eyes surrounding the clearing.

Like a cornered animal, Wei gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his ax. It would be an understatement to say he had long odds of getting out alive. But despite the grim sight of so many demons and the likelihood of his death...

Wei grinned widely.

He closed the distance between himself and the next closest demon to him as quickly as he could, swinging his ax in a wide arc. Like before, the blade bit deep into its shoulder, more ichor bursting onto the grass as the demon let out a pained howl. He pulled out his ax and swung again, but the second strike was deflected by one of the demons who was off to the left when he ran in to attack, and he had to spin around quickly to stop another of their brethren from stabbing him in the back with a spear. He managed to block the strike, but his ax was sent flying from the impact.

Wei reveled in the desperate action. Blood pumped through his veins as he kept moving. He twisted and jumped, dodging attacks and trying to get out of his predicament, unable to strike back without a weapon. But it wasn’t enough, and soon he found himself pinned down by two demons with another standing over him, holding a much larger ax than Wei’s own. The demon raised its weapon, and Wei watched in almost slow motion as it dropped towards his head.

He closed his eyes just as it was about to hit him–

And awoke with a gasp, leaning on the stump of the tree he’d previously cut down. His ax was in his hand, and he was covered in a cold sweat. He took a deep breath before sighing loudly and rolling his shoulders. He leaned back against the tree stump and closed his eyes, enjoying for a moment the peace of the night in contrast to his violent dream. He was almost disappointed all the action was just a dream, but he was relieved to be still alive.

A strong breeze blew through the air, rustling the leaves in the trees and causing the moon to be hidden by the branches for brief moments.

A slight noise nearby interrupted the silence, and he looked up.

There was a fox there, sitting on the trunk of the felled tree. It stared at him intently before letting out a quiet bark and hopping closer. He spared a quick look around the woods before looking back at the creature. After a moment of consideration, he leaned over and offered his hand to it. It slowly approached and sniffed at his hand, and he smiled as it nuzzled his open palm. He scratched it behind the ears, causing it to close its eyes, seemingly in a mixture of pleasure and content, and they stayed like this for a moment, enjoying each others' company.

The moment was interrupted when Wei jumped as he heard an owl's hoot, and he quickly stood up. The fox did likewise and stared at him intently once more. What a strange animal.

Realizing how late it was, late enough for moonlight to be visible and for tree leaves to give him shade, he scratched the back of his head. "I should be getting home. It's a lot later than I intended to be out here, and my mom's probably worried," he said to the fox. He could come back for the wood tomorrow.

It simply blinked and didn’t seem to acknowledge what he’d said.

Wei shook his head at his silliness. What was he doing, justifying himself to a wild animal as if it would understand him? "Right. Of course not."

He turned and walked back towards his home, and after a few moments, he heard the patter of paws following him. He turned his head to see the fox walking by his side. He smiled and continued on. It seemed he’d made a new fox friend.

The pair of them walked to the edge of the forest, where the village was just barely in sight, past the trees, between the rice paddy fields, and the fox stayed by his side. He knew that if his mom saw him with a fox following him that he’d be in for some hassle, so he tried to coax it back to the woods. Again, it simply looked at him before walking further alongside him. He gave up after a few more tries and carried on to his house. Hopefully, he could convince it to leave tomorrow or else hide it for a while.

Wei’s family lived near the edge of the village, so it didn’t take long to reach their house. He opened the door and stepped inside, and was greeted by the sight of his mom sitting at the table with her head in her hands. He recognized the discouraged posture. It meant that his dad had probably yelled at her again.

Wei loved his mom, but she was very weak-willed. Whenever his dad shouted at her, she just obeyed him blindly, even if what he said was wrong or damaging. She rarely stood up for herself or him and his siblings, and it made him sad, but he didn’t blame her for it.

He closed the door behind him to prevent the fox from wandering in and called out to his mom. "Hi mom, I'm home. Where're Kang and Lin?" His dad was probably drinking at one of his friend's houses, so Wei didn’t bother asking.

She doesn't look up from her hands, but he heard her reply softly, "Welcome home, Wei. Your brother is in bed, and your sister is in her room. We ate rice with fish for dinner."

Sure enough, there was still one bowl of rice at the table and a dish with fish on it. It was probably cold by then, but Wei hadn't had a meal in several hours, and he could feel it, so he sat down. He gave a short prayer and picked up his bowl to begin eating. He was just getting up from the table to bring the bowl and dish back to the kitchen when his mom spoke again.

"Wei..."

He turned and saw her looking in his direction, still not making eye contact.

"What is it, mom?"

The silence stretched as she continued to stare off into the distance without responding. Eventually, she sighed and disappeared into her room.

Wei stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wondering whether to continue putting away the dishes or to follow his mom after that non-conversation. Then he heard the fox whining and scratching from the other side of a front window. It stared at him expectantly. He smiled indulgently at it and continued bringing the bowl and dish to the kitchen, but he got some leftover fish and walked back to the door where he found it waiting. It took the food from his hand and started eating it on the doorstep.

"I'm not sure you're a boy fox, but I think I'll call you Mr. Fox for now. I have to get up early in the morning to join dad in the field, so I'm going to bed now," he told the little creature, thinking of picking snails while it was still cool out. "Good to meet you, but you should probably go before mom or dad skewers you." He made a shooing motion at it before turning to go in.

Before he went to bed, though, he went to check on your siblings. Nothing ever changed, but he loved them very much, so he always made sure they were getting decent rest.

The hall had first Lin's room, then Wei’s own, then Kang's, so he started with Lin.

He quietly cracked open her door and walked inside.

Lin, the village's most prized girl, was sprawled across her bed and snoring, one arm flung above her head and drooling onto her pillow. Smiling in amusement, he tucked the blankets in around her shoulders and gently pressed his palm against her forehead to check her temperature.

She wasn't sick, but her constitution was poor, so she often got fevers and had to stay inside all day. He made sure to check in case he would need to boil some water in the morning or pile her in warm blankets. She was pretty, after all, and she was sheltered and fragile as a result in hopes that she would someday catch the eye of a passing noble.

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake up, so he stepped softly back out into the hallway.

Honestly, he didn’t want to lose her to some stinky noble. In his eyes, his big sister was too adorable to give away. He’d rather keep her at home with the family, but he knew she would have a better life and experience luxuries he could only dream of if she could marry up. He didn’t have to like it, though.

He walked to Kang's room and opened his door, just as quiet as before. He's sprawled facedown across his bed and snoring loudly. His blankets had mostly fallen off the bed, so Wei walked over and tucked them around him more securely. Kang groaned slightly in his sleep but didn't wake up either.

That done, Wei at last headed for his bed. He quickly shed his dirty clothes and left them in a pile before sliding into bed. For a while, he laid there under the blankets, staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet then, and the only light in the room came from the moon shining in through the window. The wind had picked up outside, sending leaves scuttling against the side of the house now and then. It was very peaceful.

Smiling softly, he turned his head to look out of his window.

Mr. Fox was there.

Wei stared at him for a moment in open-mouthed surprise before he jumped into the room.

"Why you cheeky...!" Wei muffled a laugh and lifted up his blanket with one hand. "Get over here, it's warm!"

Mr. Fox must've been pretty smart because he leaped into the bed and curled up immediately. That probably also meant he was purposefully ignoring Wei’s words earlier, but that was fine.

Wei cuddled up with him and let out a sigh of contentment at the warmth under his blanket. The wind was making it cold anyway!

"Don't let my dad see you, okay?" he whispered to Mr. Fox, who blinks at him sleepily and Wei assumed he understood.

He settled down to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up holding a young girl.


End file.
